Stendan Christmas
by Love Out Of Lust
Summary: I wasn't planning on writing a Christmas fic, but after eating my own body weight in food and having several glasses of wine, this happened. Sorry for the delay - FF wasn't working most of yesterday. Merry Christmas everyone - hope you had a good one! #StendanReunion #HollyoaksLater2014


"Have you been a naughty boy this year? Is Santa gonna give you coal?" Ste crawls forwards on the bed covers, week old stubble covering his face, skin golden and eyes dark with promise.

"You're drunk," Brendan accuses, amusement peppering his voice. "Rotten drunk."

"So?" Ste pouts, movements uncoordinated as he gets closer to Brendan, thin t-shirt covering his chest, jeans loose fitting. "You _love_ it."

"Hmmm," Brendan says, non committal, doesn't want the boy to get an even bigger ego.

They'd started drinking after the kids had left, sharing a bottle of champagne between them. Ste had called it rank multiple times, asking Brendan why no one ever brought them beer as a present instead.

"It's not dignified, is it?"

"Says who?" Ste had asked, nose scrunched up. "It tastes better than this, don't it?"

Hours later, he's warmed to it, swigging it back like he's a man dying of thirst. The house is silent - their guests have left, and it's just the two of them. It feels right somehow, like this.

"Do you want a blowjob?" Ste throws his head back and laughs as though he's telling a private joke, loud and inelegant.

"You're too far gone for that, kid."

"I ain't a kid." He growls but it's half hearted: he's already flopping against the bed, head resting on the cover. "I'm gonna give you the best sex of your life."

"Kind of hard when you're unconscious."

"I'm not," he says stubbornly, eyes settling closed. "I just need to rest for a minute. Gimme a sec. Get undressed and grab the lube."

"You're so eloquent, Steven."

"Shut your mouth."

He closes his eyes, muttering something which sounds remarkably like a Mariah Carey song.

::::::

"Bren?" Ste hiccups, saliva escaping from his mouth. "Brendan?"

"I'm in the kitchen."

"What are you doing in there?"

"Building a fort, Steven. What do you think I'm doing? I'm eating."

"It better not be my Christmas cake."

There's silence, and Ste releases a groan. "We're meant to be saving that for tonight."

"I haven't done anything." Even from separate rooms, Ste can hear the sound of Brendan's mouth full.

Ste clambers out of bed, head aching and a film of sweat covering his forehead. He's somewhere between drunk and hungover, and he hasn't worked out which one yet.

When he reaches the kitchen, he stops. Brendan's standing at the counter, marzipan from the cake in his open mouth.

"Oops."

"You bastard."

"I don't see why we have to save it. What's the fun in that?"

"We're meant to be giving some to my dad. What's he gonna think now? You've already had most of it!"

"He'll appreciate what a good cook his son is," Brendan says, murmuring in appreciation and licking his fingertips. Ste watches the action, eyes heavy lidded, mesmerised.

"You're not gonna be able to fit another dinner in though, are you?"

"Steven, if there's one thing I can always do, it's eat."

"That better be true, cos we've got to be over there in an hour." Ste brushes his body down, hoping that by doing so he can instantly make himself look less disheveled, less off his head on booze from Price Slice.

"An hour? That doesn't give us much time," Brendan says with a frown, wiping crumbs from his moustache.

"For what?"

"The best sex of my life." Brendan raises his eyebrows expectedly, chest puffing out.

"Forget about it, mate." Ste rolls his eyes, padding back to the bedroom, trying to tell his erection to calm the fuck down.

::::::

Awkward doesn't begin to cover it.

They're sitting round a dinner table, having meal number two of the day. This is the thing about having lots of different families: small talk. Lots and lots of small talk, and trying to guess what the hell they'd like for their presents.

Peri's easy enough. She's in the heavy foundation and blush stage, and Ste gets her some make up with a little help from Amy. Her face lights up when she sees it, her mother staring at him with disapproval in her eyes. Ste grins nervously, _I didn't know what else to get her,_ and her face softens for the first time that day.

He knows it can't be easy for Sam, being back here.

Leela had given him an extensive list, perfume and chocolate and clothes and _fucking hell_, she seems to think he's made of money. Brendan had taken care of most of it, even when Ste had begged him not to. She rips open the packaging greedily, eyes feasting on the various colours and patterns and material, throwing her arms around the two of them. Brendan's eyes widen, _help me_, and Ste can only shrug sheepishly.

Tegan's harder. She's undemanding, and the only thing she asks for is some new clothes for Rose. They get on, her and Brendan. Ste had never seen that coming, but she'd been the only one who'd been accepting of him when he'd come home from prison, and he's never forgotten it.

His present is a job, and Ste stands back in amazement and stares at Brendan with something like awe as he explains the details to her: she'll work behind the bar, and the money won't be great but it'll be enough, and if Rose is ever sick then she'll have paid leave. Tegan mumbles her thank you's, cheeks turning pink, and Brendan looks at the floor the whole time. Ste's never loved him more.

It's all going so well. _Too_ well. They know something will break it - it's the law, it always happens with them, and it's not long before a knock at the door ruins the spell.

Ste knows who it is by the way Danny's speaking. The door's almost closed, and the way he's talking - private, intimate - it could only be one person.

Ste's body tenses, and he braces himself for carnage.

"It's him?" Brendan's just finished pulling a cracker from beside Peri, and he's wearing one of those stupid hats that he looks faintly adorable in. Ste would smile if he wasn't so scared.

"Yeah. But don't kick off, right -"

"He's not coming in." Brendan says, voice firm, and Ste's hands clench to stop them from shaking.

"No, course not. But Bren -"

It's too late. The door opens, and John Paul steps inside, and everything seems to happen at once.

Sam stands up from the table and makes a hasty exit upstairs. Ste pictures her in the bathroom, leaning against the sink and taking deep breaths, fighting to stop the tears from showing. It took her enough courage to come here today and spend Christmas with them, but for her ex husband's boyfriend to show up - it's all too much.

Leela, Tegan and Peri are like an army, blocking John Paul from entering the kitchen. They want to keep him on the outskirts, not touching anything, not tainting it. Their eyes are hostile, their lips a tight, drawn line of animosity.

Danny smiles weakly, and all Ste can do is look at Brendan.

::::::

He told him everything. When Brendan was released, it came out like a string of secrets, ripped from the heart of him.

_You seen anyone while I was away? _

_Yes. _

_Who?"_

_Couple of guys._

_How many are we talking here?_

Ste didn't know what information he needed - didn't know whether Brendan wanted numbers of every man he'd slept with, or just the important ones.

Were any important? They'd felt it at the time, but now that Brendan was back, they'd melted away into nothingness.

He told him about a one night stand he'd had shortly after he'd left, leaving out any names. He wasn't sure if Brendan would believe him if he told him. Sleeping with a teenager who hadn't even registered on either of their radars would sound pathetic, and desperate. It already made Ste feel cheap, like a unfeeling whore who hadn't been able to wait two seconds before jumping into bed with someone else.

He didn't know how to explain. Didn't have the words to tell him that he'd needed it - needed to do something that Brendan would do, needed it just to feel close to him. It sounded like a weak argument; something that didn't make sense even to himself.

Doug was difficult to explain. Brendan remained silent throughout, but Ste could see the fury bubbling underneath, and the jealousy that threatened to come to the surface. He'd missed that jealousy. Missed being wanted that fiercely.

_Your husband._

It wasn't a question. Just disbelief.

_I know._

_But...him. Steven? Him?_

Ste's mouth was dry, his head busy with possible explanations. He settled for the truth; it was all he had.

_I was lonely. He was there. _

Brendan snorted. Ste knew how it must sound.

_He loved me. I needed that._

He was painfully aware of what he was saying: that it wasn't _him_ who had loved Doug.

_Any other ex boyfriends to come crawling out of the woodwork? Noah maybe?_

Ste looked down at the carpet. They were in his flat, and he'd made them tea, and neither had drunk a sip. Ste wondered if Brendan was as nervous as he was: if his stomach felt as unsettled, like it was churning and would never be calm again.

_There was one other guy. _

Brendan looked so terrified that Ste wanted to stop. But he couldn't; it was already too late, and he had no choice but to go on.

Saying the name was hard. It took him several attempts, several tries before he was brave enough.

When he spoke, Brendan's eyes widened, and he couldn't conceal his shock.

_John Paul McQueen?_

There was judgement there, and it made Ste angry.

_So? You went there long before I did._

_Yeah, but that was... stupid, one time thing. Meant nothing._

He was rambling, clipped sentences spilling from his mouth. He'd turned white, and his knuckles had drained of colour too.

_You love this guy, Steven? You love John Paul fucking McQueen?_

_No._ He'd answered it immediately, even though months before Brendan's return he'd been saying it to John Paul. _I love you. I'm in love with you. Pick me instead of my dad, _like they were in some fucking soap opera - like they were on Jeremy Kyle.

Strange how that didn't seem to mean a damn thing now.

_No. Never._

_I was so, so alone. _He wanted to add it, wanted Brendan to understand that he'd felt like the loneliest person in the world. How everything had been taken from him on that day in March, and he hadn't had a clue how to stitch back the pieces. This had been his only way of trying: find someone who made him forget about it, at least for a little while.

But he didn't want to hurt him anymore. He could see it written across Brendan's face; lines of sorrow that looked deep enough to scar.

_Do you still love me?_

Ste only realised then that he was crying.

_Fucking hell, Steven._ Brendan sounded exasperated.

_Well do you? _

_God, yes. Yes. _

::::::

"Are you gonna be okay with this?" Ste whispers into Brendan's ear, watching as his cheek twitches.

"Fucking perfect. Never better."

"Don't be like that."

"Just leave it, Steven."

He does. He sits back in his chair, and pretends that he doesn't care whether Brendan's heart is breaking inside.

Brendan smiles as Danny and John Paul come inside the flat, except it doesn't look like a smile. It looks like something out of a horror film, and Ste's surprised that John Paul doesn't run from the room screaming.

"What's _he_ doing here?" Leela asks with barely concealed revulsion, nodding in John Paul's direction. Brendan looks like he could kiss her.

"He's just coming quickly to say merry Christmas."

"Could of used the phone." Leela crosses her arms, all brashness and sass.

Ste tries not to catch his eye, but it happens: John Paul glances at him briefly, his embarrassment obvious. It's hard to imagine that a year ago they were sitting in the deli and kissing for the first time. Everything's changed, and Ste feels a shiver run through him at the thought of what his life was like then, and secures a hand around Brendan's on the table, grateful when Brendan doesn't pull away.

He came close to losing all this forever. Never getting another chance. It feels like he's walking over his own grave.

"I should go." John Paul mumbles it, and when he makes eye contact with Brendan he visibly gulps like they're in a cartoon, and Brendan's the villainous caricature.

"Yeah, you do that," Brendan mutters just loud enough for John Paul to hear. Before Ste can elbow him, he feels a strong hand secure around his thigh, moving upwards. He shoots Brendan a look, _what are you doing_, but he ignores him and continues to drag it along the length of Ste's leg, until he's reached the crotch.

He gives Ste a few firm squeezes through his trousers, just enough to make him crazy for him, and releases him when Ste feels the beginning of his orgasm gripping him.

Brendan smiles sweetly like butter wouldn't melt. Ste hates him.

::::::

They're alone now.

They've opened a new box of mince pies, and they're sharing them between them, feeding them to each other.

Brendan keeps on teasing, offering Ste the sweet pastry before withdrawing it at the last moment. He's like that with his cock, too; promising it and then not giving Ste what he wants, and it makes the boy whine with need.

They've settled into a blissful drunken haze, and their stomachs are fit to burst. Brendan rubs his, calling it a food baby, arm lolling at the side of the sofa.

Ste plays with the ring on his finger. They'd got married a month after Brendan's return. There was no point in waiting around - it's forever, and they weren't about to waste any more time. This, them - it's everything.

"Do you want some more?" Ste asks, holding up the near empty champagne bottle.

"No," Brendan says, taking him by surprise. "I want my present." His eyes sparkle.

Ste's tired, and full, and it's not the most ideal time for the present which he'd promised, but he's also had to sit beside Brendan and be with him all day, and it's taken a kind of inner strength not to fuck him. It's been exhausting, more exhausting than the prospect of undressing and having sex, and so he gets to his feet, still wearing the Santa hat which Peri brought him, sitting lopsidedly on his head.

He asks in a serous voice, "What do you think your present is?", and Brendan strokes his moustache and pretends to have a think, not exactly the world's best actor but he's going along with the game.

"Is it edible?" There's a glint in his eyes, and Ste licks his lips almost instinctively.

"Kind of."

"Sorry boy, I'm stuffed," he says, lying down and closing his eyes and pretending to fall asleep. He gets a pillow thrown at his head in return, and when he looks at Ste again, the boy's taking his jeans off.

"Want me to wrap myself in a bow?" Ste's only half joking: he'd do it, if that's what Brendan wants.

"I think you look perfect." It's so sincere that it knocks the breath out of him, and Ste hesitates for a second, caught in one of those surreal moments where he wonders how _he_ got so lucky.

He doesn't question it for too long, because if he does then it might be snatched away.

With every reveal of flesh, Brendan's eyes grow darker and more desperate. Ste can see how much he wants to move from the sofa, but he restrains himself, watching the show.

And he _makes_ a show of it. He stretches his limbs and elongates them, showing every expanse of skin. He vaguely remembers a time when he used to be shy at being on display, and for a moment the self consciousness breaks through and floods into him, but then it's gone with one look from Brendan - one look like he's the most beautiful, wonderful thing he's ever seen.

Ste sees the effect he has. Sees Brendan's erection through his trousers, sees the way the man's chest is rising and falling, and he's naked but he's never felt so powerful. It's times like these when he comes alive.

Brendan can forget when they're like this. He forgets about Doug and John Paul, forgets about prison, forgets that there was ever anyone else but them. When he has Ste's permission - a brief nod of the head for Brendan to join him - he stands and makes his way, fully dressed, to where the boy is. It seems to take forever, just those few steps, but they're in each others arms suddenly, and they can feel the heat from each other, and it feels like they're the only two people in the word. It's nice, that feeling.

Brendan backs Ste against the wall, and Ste lets him. It's now that Brendan takes charge, and Ste's cock hardens as he watches it happen. He doesn't undress Brendan - it's quicker when he does it himself, and soon they're naked and getting goosebumps, but not for long.

Ste grasps Brendan's dick in his hands, stroking the length of it.

"I've been thinking about this all day."

Brendan doesn't doubt it; he'd felt Ste's morning erection pressing against him when they'd woken, but he hadn't been able to see it off like he'd wanted to. They'd been too busy - Declan and Padraig visiting from Ireland, and Leah and Lucas coming from their granddad's place. There had been last minute presents to wrap and the meal to prepare, and Ste had padded into the kitchen grumbling and aimlessly fisting his dick to get some form of relief.

There's nothing to disturb them now, and they relish it.

Ste's still all skin and bone, as much as when Brendan had left him. He easily settles into Brendan's arms, allowing himself to be hoisted around the waist and pressed against the cold plaster. It's not the most comfortable of positions, but it's something familiar, something they'd grown used to, evenings spent in Brendan's office at Chez Chez, Ste's back ramming against the wall every time they fucked. And they fucked. A lot.

Brendan's hand finds its way into the small space between their bodies, securing itself around Ste's dick, giving it a few pumps to bring it alive, only realising when Ste bites down on his shoulder that he's close to coming.

Brendan lets him go and strokes down the nape of his neck, hoping that the intimacy of it will calm him down, but he forgets - momentarily - that any touch, however small and affectionate, makes the boy squirm and wriggle and light up with excitement. Brendan feels a sticky wetness against his thigh.

"Lie down."

Ste looks at him curiously, and follows the instruction. There's a thrill to being told what to do, to knowing that he'll enjoy what comes next.

He makes himself more comfortable with pillows, idly playing with his dick, his hand nestled in his bed of pubic hair. He can feel himself drifting away - not into sleep; he doesn't feel tired anymore - but into a dream like haze where everything feels good.

"Don't come." Brendan's voice sounds like a warning, and when Ste doesn't listen, he puts his own hand over Ste's and removes it from his dick.

"Roll over."

Ste does so, limbs moving slowly. He's been surrounded by the people he loves most in the world today, but it's only now that he feels like he's truly at peace.

He's shaken from his oasis, yelping at the cold feeling of liquid on his hole.

"Brendan!"

Brendan shushes him, gazing at him in fascination, pink tongue glistening between his teeth. He looks like he's getting ready for something, and Ste realises then - sees that he's just poured champagne over and into his arse.

Brendan puts the bottle down, cocking his head to the side to admire the view. With one fluid motion he dips his head forward and licks into Ste's hole.

When he rises for breath, he sighs in appreciation.

"Tastes delicious." He sounds obscene, and entirely serious. It makes Ste blush and rub against the carpet, dying for the friction that Brendan's denying him. He's going to get carpet burns if he's not careful, but his cock feels like it's about to burst, and he needs _something_. Some form of relief.

"Go on then." Ste doesn't elaborate further - isn't even sure what he's asking for. He's torn between wanting Brendan to fuck him and wanting him to go in with his tongue again, or perhaps his fingers; he giggles at the thought of all three, and doesn't answer Brendan when he asks him what's so funny.

Brendan's very, very good at this. Too good. It feels like Ste's senses have set on fire, and he can't seem to focus on anything; just closes his eyes, screwing them shut tightly and waiting for Brendan to go in deeper, because he knows it's possible - knows that, however far Brendan pushes in with his tongues, he's always capable of more.

Ste's right. There's more, and his spine arches off the floor when Brendan does it.

He returns the favour in kind. He's still covered in the sticky mess of his own come, but he climbs onto Brendan's lap and reaches for his cock as they kiss, lazy and sloppy and happy; so, so happy.

Brendan's humming into his mouth, sounds like he's somewhere else entirely, and it shouldn't be like this, should it? Men who go to prison for mass murder shouldn't be released in under two years, and men who kill their own mothers shouldn't be allowed to smile and laugh and plan for the future. _It shouldn't be like this. _But it is, and they hold onto each other tighter as Ste increases his strokes on Brendan's cock, spitting into his hand every now and then to ease the glide, reading every emotion written across Brendan's face.

They're sated and still full from the two Christmas dinners they've already had today, but when they're lying together afterwards, Brendan begins to feel a breeze, and when he peers over his shoulder he finds Ste's head down his boxer shorts, fingers rubbing against his hole.

"You want to..." Brendan asks throatily, already rising to get the lube from the bedroom.

"Lets go through there. I wanna be in bed."

They walk to the room, arms around each other, and there's a different atmosphere as they climb under the covers. The earlier franticness is gone, replaced with something which Brendan is pretty sure is known as domesticity, or married life; both things make him feel faintly sick, but with Ste - with Ste, it feels like it should have happened a hell of a lot sooner. Like they - _he_ - wasted years.

They kiss for a long time. Could be half an hour, which seems impossible, but that's what it feels like. Ste's face grows sore from the scratchiness of Brendan's tache and stubble, and he complains but there's nothing in it - no real malice, no real annoyance. He likes the feel of it, the way it tickles. It's familiar, and it's so characteristic of Brendan that however much this all feels like a dream, Ste knows it isn't.

"Maybe you should wear this." Ste picks up his Santa hat from the carpet, offering it to Brendan. He thinks he'll refuse it, that he'll laugh and throw it back on the floor, but he surprises him.

"Alright," he grunts, and he gives a lopsided smile as he puts it on.

"Santa Bren," Ste says, voice so full of fondness that Brendan colours under the attention, looking away, but only for a second - they never look away for long.

"Who does that make you - my reindeer?"

"Oi. I'm not a _deer_."

"Bambi. You've got the eyelashes," Brendan adds, stroking them with a single finger.

Ste ignores him "I'm...I'm one of your elves, ain't I?" He's not entirely sure if he's happy with this, but Brendan's completely naked except for the Santa hat, and he's more than ready to take advantage of it.

"Hop on my sleigh then," Brendan drawls, throwing back the covers.

"You're such a perv."

"You love me though, don't you?"

"Yeah. I love you. Merry Christmas, Santa."

"Merry Christmas, Bambi."

"Shut up -"

Brendan silences him with a kiss.


End file.
